


Night

by storiesinthedark



Series: Fics from Fandoms of Long Ago [7]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, POV First Person, Supernatural Elements, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesinthedark/pseuds/storiesinthedark
Summary: After the viewing at the funeral home, Roger and Mark take a trip to a church to see what they can find.





	Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for rentficchallenge on LiveJournal many years ago...

I could see them. The tears that began welling in Roger’s green eyes. It was the same process that had been reoccurring now for the last three hours. His eyes would sparkle as the water covered every inch of his eyes, he would blink, and the tears would fall down in droplets. Little droplets of water, staining his face a crimson color. Little droplets that showed that the “emotionless rock star god” did in fact care about something. He would then wipe them away with the sleeve of his black button down shirt. He would be fine until someone came to hug him. The process would then return.   
  
I, myself, was uncomfortable. Roger was never this emotional. Never. And now he sat and cried openly. My world was twisted. This wasn’t my reality. No…it couldn’t be my reality.   
  
It was only half of my reality. Roger and I had been at the funeral home now for nearly three and a half hours. And while Roger’s emotional state was as I have already stated, mine wasn’t as bad as I make it sound. In fact, I had come to spend the night in the funeral home with my best friend because right now he really needed my company. He needed me to be a stable. He needed me to try and take away the heartache. I knew that this was what I was getting myself into. I expected it. Besides, once we left the viewing Roger would go back to normal…right? I could only hope.   
  
I sat in the wooden chair, some distance away from the coffin. Roger wouldn’t leave its side. I guess that’s what happens when you loose someone you love. I myself have never lost anyone, so I don’t know the feeling I guess. In fact, this is the first time that I have actually seen a dead body. It’s kind of creepy.   
  
I sat in the wooden chair and watched Roger console his mother. Watched him glance back at me for a friendly smile and then continue on his path of grief. He came back to me for a few moments. I smile slightly, and bowed my head.   
  
“I’m sorry.” I said.  
  
“Don’t be. I don’t want the sympathy. I’m just glad that you came.” He began to blow his nose in his hand.   
  
“Tissues are good for that…” I pulled one and handed it outward, waiting for him to take it.   
  
“Thanks.” He blew his nose. “After this…we’re going out.”  
  
“Out?”  
  
“Yes! Out…I’m getting tired of all this sympathy. I’m tired of crying. I think I’m going to run out of tears soon.”   
  
I laughed and so did he. “Whatever you say.” He walked away again.   
  
I continued to sit in the chair. I thought about taking out my camera, but I didn’t know how appropriate that would be. I was going to be respectful. After all even though I didn’t know Roger’s grandmother, she deserved respect.   
  
The “Roger Cry-fest” went on and eventually Roger came back to talk to me.   
  
“We can go now. The service is in the morning, but Mom says we can do “what we please”” He mocked his mother.   
  
I held back laughter. “What are we going to do at ten o’clock at night?”  
  
“I know…Bye Mom!” He grabbed my arm, nearly yanking my arm out of the socket, and pulled me out the front door of the funeral home.   
  
We got into his car, his beat-up old station wagon of a car, and began to drive. The Roger I had found in the funeral home was no longer with me. He was the typical Roger, the adventurous, emotionless, cynical, fun Roger. The Roger I loved.   
  
I didn’t know where we were heading. But, soon we found ourselves in the parking lot of a church. An old church…a church that I would have liked to film had it not been so dark, and I not so confused as to why I was in the parking lot of a church at ten thirty in the evening.   
  
“What are we doing here?” I looked at Roger, eyeing him up and down as a vulture eyes his prey. Something was up. I wasn’t sure what just yet, but something was up.   
  
He didn’t answer and quickly got out of the car and popped the trunk. I followed him around to the trunk and looked at what he was pulling out.   
  
“We are here…” He started, not looking at me. Only paying attention to the equipment that he had in the trunk. “…so that we can hopefully catch some ghosts…”  
  
“What?” This was a new one. I guess that’s what you do in a small town in New Jersey though.   
  
He began to walk toward the church. “Roger!” I yelled running after him, “We’re going to get in trouble.”  
  
“No.” He opened the door with a simple tap of his fist. “This church has been around forever. Everyone does this. We’ve done this since I was a kid.”   
  
It was quiet and dark. How did Roger know where he was going? I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to me. I didn’t want to get lost in there. He held a tape recorder in his hand and began speaking out loud. “Is there anyone here?” No answer. “Can you move something or do something to show a presence?” Once again no answer.   
  
“Roger, this is stupid. Nothing here will answer you.”  
  
“You don’t know that. Why don’t you video?”  
  
“It’s dark.”  
  
“Just video.”   
  
I pulled out my video camera and began to shoot. Nothing I could see. What was the point of this? I wandered around a little, Roger on the other side of the room, now messing with something that measured electrical fields. Where he had gotten all this equipment I didn’t know. I wasn’t asking either.  
  
It was quiet. There had at least been noise before. Roger’s footsteps, voice, and the stupid beeping of the device he was using. Where was he? The church was still dark. I couldn’t see.   
  
“Roger!”   
  
No answer.  
  
“Roger!”   
  
Footsteps. Behind me. I tensed and stopped breathing. I closed my eyes.  
  
This was definitely not right! Here we were, the two of us, now laying on the ground together. Roger pressing his lips into mine. This was not right, but yet I did nothing to stop it.   
  
I pulled away. “Roger.”  
  
“What?”   
  
“Why are there glowing people behind you?”   
  
“What glowing people?”  
  
“Those.” I pointed and he turned around. His eyes widened.  
  
“Run.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just go.”   
  
We ran out of the church, leaving the door behind us still open. We flung the car doors open, got in, started the car, and began driving very fast.   
  
“Roger, what was that?”  
  
“I don’t know.”   
  
There was no more conversation until we reached Roger’s mother’s house. We sat in the car outside the house for a few minutes. He pulled me close and pressed his lips into mine.  
  
“I’ll see you inside.” He got out of the car, leaving me alone. He could see I was scared. I needed that alone time, and he was right.   
  
I breathed deeply. I grabbed the tape recorder that he had been using in the church. Rewound the tape and hit play.  
  
“Is there anyone here?” Roger’s voice repeated the conversation from earlier.  
  
Faint moans could be heard in the background.   
  
“Can you move something or do something to show a presence?”   
  
“Roger…Ma…” A girl’s voice.


End file.
